Cigarettes
by blackbirdburners
Summary: When "you gotta get him for me" leads to more, and Tahno and Korra become friends. Basically that. A Two-shot for waryclefairy.


"_You gotta get him for me_."

If there were ever words to chill her to the bone, it was those. Korra could do nothing but nod, and feel the gap between them more acutely than she felt the earth beneath her feet, or the air around them. In Tahno's clouded eyes, she saw her reflection clearly for the first time, and the words written across her forehead.

_Failure_.

He said nothing more—nothing more that was important, anyway—and wandered on, and Korra felt a rush of sympathy tangle itself in her heartstrings, lodging itself like a stone in her chest and pulling her down with its weight, until even her vocal chords were caught in the web, and she could say nothing. It wasn't until Tahno looked back, a faint smirk on his face, with a promise on the tip of his tongue that she felt herself breath again.

"See you around, Ah-vatar."

She heard herself reply only after the door closed behind him.

"Yeah," she said. "You will."

* * *

She found him in the alley outside Narook's, perched upon a forgotten box and staring unseeingly at a brick in the wall. She almost chastised him for the cigarette that dangled between his lips, but thought better of it. This Tahno, the one with eyes the color of a glinted knife, didn't need her snapping at him. He didn't need her talking at all.

This Tahno didn't need anything she could give him.

So instead, she asked for a cigarette herself, and nearly choked on it. They waited there, back against the brick, and watched the shadows of the people walking down the streets reach with willowy fingers into the shade of their alley. The silence didn't hang with the humidity of unsaid words, but with an undercurrent of understanding. It was almost…companionable.

It was almost like they were friends.

When she ran out of cigarette, she stamped out the damned thing with the heel of her boot, and looked him square in the eye so he could see she wasn't playing.

_Don't do anything stupid, okay?_

And with that, she walked out into the light of the street, and left him in a dangerous silhouette against his own shadow.

* * *

She joined him a few other times outside Narook's, with her own cigarettes. He almost seemed to expect her, almost amiably.

"You know," he said once, a thoughtful, contemplative expression on his face, "You don't have to smoke if you don't want to."

She took personal offense to that, and crossed her arms with a glare of defiance. The cigarette she jammed in her mouth was lit with the embers of pure indignance, and to her eternal embarrassment, it was then her poor, abused lungs decided they'd had enough. She doubled over with a hacking cough, and spat the cigarette to the ground with the remnants of her pride.

Tahno's booming laughter turned heads in the street, and his hand was warm as he rubbed circles on her back, still shaking.

The glare she sent him was weak and full of water.

That only made him laugh harder.

There, she decided, was the shift in their relationship, what changed between them. The next time he waited for her, he waited with a bottle of grape juice and two cups. No cigarettes.

"I almost brought wine, but I figured that'd be too strong for you." He said with the first smirk she'd seen on him since—Korra didn't finish the thought.

When she punched him, she made sure that it hurt. She was 90% sure it didn't.

* * *

Korra once heard Tenzin say that silence was like a flower that bloomed in the shade; Korra thought this was a load of barnacles. If anything was a plant, it was friendship and conversation; she saw the vines of it swirl and bloom on top of the box where they met, spreading across all of the surfaces until the whole alley teemed with life, like a forest of things they could tell no one but each other. And it was there, amidst the green of a secret companionship, that they hid themselves from the world, and it was there that Korra, for the first time since leaving the South Pole, felt truly at home.

But Tahno wasn't always in a good mood.

_This is becoming quite the habit for you, isn't it?_

He said it with a quick twist of his mouth, with eyes the color of a forgotten love letter. The whole image—the discarded pro-bender atop a discarded box in a city of discarded people—struck her as sad, and she felt the weight of that stone in her chest like she never had before. He shook his head almost sadly.

"Whatever. As long as I'm not a bad one."

He said the next bit almost as an afterthought.

_I'm sick of being people's bad habits_.

The resistance she expected when she crushed her body into his wasn't there; Tahno buried his head in the crook of exposed skin at her shoulder, his breath harsh against her. She moved to fold her legs next to his, and wrapped her arms around him more fully, and then Tahno held her back, and the weight—the _heat_—of his body made her whole being tingle, and Korra felt alive in more ways than one.

* * *

The next time she saw him, he seemed almost bashful. A pack of cigarettes sat next to him on the box, unopened. He was staring at the brick again with that intense look in his eyes, and Korra snapped back to where she was three weeks ago when she started—with a Tahno that didn't need her.

But then she saw his eyes.

They weren't dangerous or sharp. They were the color of a faded photograph, or a cold morning in February—they were nostalgic eyes.

That was worse.

So when his hand twitched as if to reach for a cigarette, she slapped it away and threw the entire pack into a puddle. There, she thought, smiling with a hint of ferality, was the Tahno she knew. Defiant, determined.

Alive.

Clearly he was about to stand up and say something—something probably cutting and sassy like always-but Korra was not done. Grabbing his chin—this certainly got his attention, because Korra knew for a fact that no one had ever grabbed him before outside of the arena (or, she should say, the bedroom)—she forced him to look her in the eye. She tried not to focus on the very close proximity of their mouths.

_"I don't want to see any more cigarettes around here again, you hear me?"_

For a second Tahno looked almost intimidated, but, since this was _Tahno_, his eyes quickly turned to the shade of confidence she was accustomed to again—or as much as they could, seeing as she still held a firm grasp on his jaw. She felt something warm leave her toes and settle in her stomach. The stone was back in her chest again, but suddenly, its presence wasn't all that bad anymore.

_"_Will I get a reward?"He asked, the corner of his mouth rising slightly.

She leaned forward, and felt him do the same. They were almost touching—she didn't know what they were almost doing, but just, _touching_—when she punched him right in the arm. He let out a small yelp and backed up against the wall in sheer reflex.

"Nope." She sang, turning away from him momentarily to cool the blush on her checks. "But I will."

Tahno didn't seem as playful as he was before, and glared at her almost resentfully. Their almost kiss sat cool and wooden in between them.

"Oh," he said, frowning slightly. "And what reward is that?"

Her smile was eleven shades of brilliance.

"You're taking me out of this dump."

* * *

"I'm _what_?"

* * *

"You heard me." She said, smiling wickedly. _"_We're leaving."

Korra raised an eyebrow to mirror Tahno's.

"What?" She said, her hands on her hips. "This place is nice and all, Tahno, but it's an alley. Not very comfortable."

Her expression was downright jubilant.

"Didn't your mother teach you how to treat a lady? You're going to take me to your place. I'm sick of this box. "

And so he did, and in Tahno's apartment they met; and the alleyway—and the cigarettes—laid forgotten on a city map, kept safe like a secret in their pockets. It burned a hole whenever she sat next to Mako, and she wondered how so much passion could leave someone so quickly.

* * *

Korra never had a friend like Tahno before, but then again, she never really had _friends_ in the South Pole. There she was the Avatar, a doll to be protected—here she was Korra, and she was still trying to figure out what that meant. Each of them helped her forward bit by bit.

With Mako, she realized she could fight. When they disagreed, she could feel the entire ocean in her blood, and when he gave her that big brother look he mastered with Bolin, mischievous Korra came out to play. With Mako, she felt protected, like family.

With Bolin, she realized she could laugh. Bolin would say something utterly ridiculous, and it was then Korra really felt her age. It was then that she really felt—_young_.

Asami was different. When she swallowed her guilt, she swore without words she'd make it up to Asami for everything she'd done with everything she had. It was with Asami that she felt like a girl, something no one else had made her feel before, not even her mother. Asami made her feel like she could really be there for someone. With Asami, she felt like a friend.

With Tahno, however, it was—well, she didn't know how to explain it. Tahno didn't make her feel like any of that, but somehow all of the above. When he gave her one of those smirks, Korra's blood would _boil_, and ooh, how it would just get to her, and her toes would curl, and she'd get right up in his face and—

And when he'd laugh—not one of those teasing kind of laughs, but a real, honest laugh (she was surprised he could do that, the slime ball that he was)—she felt something melt deep in her core, and pool in her stomach. When Tahno looked at her, Korra felt every inch of her skin, and all of the crevices that were not being touched.

She could tell him anything, she knew—Tahno wouldn't judge. He wasn't that kind of person. And when she didn't want to tell him anything, he wouldn't pry. He didn't make her talk, but he was always there to poke holes, and with her friends she felt like water, but with him, she felt like fire.

* * *

It was when she was with Tahno that she really felt alive, and she loved every second of it.

* * *

Korra didn't know what he was thinking all this time she was barging into his life, not for one second, except for once when they were walking to his apartment on a colder night, and he grabbed her hand suddenly and brought it to his lips. She felt his warm breath all the ways to her toes, and their eyes met.

His smile was genuine, and blazed through the night long after they left.

"Thank you."

And that was that.

* * *

Tahno would never admit it, but she was right. It was infinitely more comfortable in his apartment than out on the street —she loved the window that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, the one with the breathtaking view of a breathtaking city, the one that she said made her feel like she was in a nest on top of a cloud, staring out at the people below. And, if it was more intimate on the love seat, that wasn't exactly a bad thing.

* * *

She only came every day, and somehow that wasn't enough. For either of them.

* * *

When she wasn't there, it didn't feel…safe. He didn't know if it was the Avatar thing going about her or the Korra "I'm 5 foot 4 but I'll make you feel like I'm the biggest thing in this room" thing only she could pull off, but walking down the street without her arm brushing against his made him all too aware of the _space_ around him. At night, he'd wake up in a sheen of cold sweat, the heavy weight of Amon's phantom thumb on his forehead, and no matter how many times he wiped the damp hair off his forehead, no matter how many showers he took, no matter how many times he locked the doors one, two, three times compulsively, he couldn't get it to go away. He couldn't count the hours he spent trying to sleep, with eyes he couldn't keep closed and fists that couldn't let go of the sheets. He felt the weight of Amon's presence in the bags beneath his eyes.

And Tahno hated it. He hated feeling so powerless.

* * *

Weak.

* * *

It was time for a change.

* * *

With the money Tahno earned from all the Tournaments—he'd like to see anyone take away his winnings now, he thought bitterly—he installed a new gym in his apartment. There was one he used to go to back when he had—

_No—_

—but he didn't think he could show his face there anymore. He couldn't stand the pity, and he couldn't let anything stand in the way of his training.

Amon wouldn't know what hit him.

* * *

Korra told him everything, from what that Fart Ferret was up to to what Tarrlok managed to piss her off about this time, but somehow, he couldn't return the favor. He appreciated her—a little bit more than that, actually, if he was being honest with himself (which he wasn't)—but he couldn't tell her about his dreams, or his training. Or Amon.

He couldn't stand to tell her he was afraid.

So he wouldn't.

* * *

He had spent a lot of time thinking about it, and had reached the same conclusion a hundred times before, but it didn't become real for him until Korra said it himself.

_Tahno, you are so much more than just your bending._

She had said it almost fleetingly, in between the goodbye and the act of goodbyeing, and scampered off before he could say anything in reply, but he never forgot it. He sank to the floor, his back up against the door and rested his head on his arm. In his ears was a song on repeat.

_ You are so much more. You are so much more. You are so much more._

He didn't believe her then, but he tried. Yes, he tried. It would take a couple more compliments like that, though, before he would believe her.

And then, he would be eternally grateful.

_Like he wasn't already._

* * *

He could see the lift of her eyebrow, but all he could focus on was the azure of her eyes. Tahno had never seen anything so _blue_, but he refused to yield. His pride was at stake, so he set his jaw and prayed that for once Korra would let it slide.

The image of Korra on his couch, hair down (he had practically begged her to take down that ridiculous ponytail thing; she had such beautiful hair) trailing over her shoulder, head cocked, mouth slightly open, and he could just barely see the pink of her tongue there, was an image he'd never forget. He'd never been so attracted to a woman before in his life.

He saw something measured in her stare, something questioning, and he sees her let it go.

"Nevermind."

The taste of her disappointment tastes bitter in his mouth, and he wonders when her emotions started to become more important than his own.

He was so screwed.

* * *

She didn't know when it happened, but something clicked in her then, when Tahno closed the door behind her for what seemed like the billionth time—when had they started to hang out in his apartment, months ago?—and she realized that she had cut away a whole section of her life just for Tahno, and no one knew where she went every night. When she remembered something Tahno said about Bad Habits.

She was keeping him secret, and that sat poorly with her. Tahno didn't deserve that.

It was time for a change.

* * *

He was startled when she asked.

"_Me?"_

He had said it hunched over the screaming kettle, not quite looking at her but at her forehead, and she wondered if he was still reading those words printed in bold on it. Korra straightened her back, and struggled to fold her arms as if it was no big deal, as if her heart and her whole being weren't beating in anticipation.

"Yeah." She said. "You."

He laughed then—outright laughed—and it felt good in an obscene, filthy way, because it was the kind of laughter that comes after a dirty joke from the bottom of a whiskey glass. Tahno did that thing he did, where he looked at you with a kind of slant in his eyes and it seemed like his entire being peeked out at you from underneath his lashes—_that_ was the best she could do to explain his intensity—and he rolled his whole head to face her without ever moving his shoulders. He whispered it like a secret.

* * *

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a hero, Ah-vatar."

* * *

Many years ago, when a younger Korra sat before the White Lotus, they had asked her what kind of Avatar she wanted to be, and she replied with all of the innocence of an eight year-old, _honest_. She wondered what had happened in that decade that passed, to make her the creature she was now, this lying, cheating, heartbreaking, _failure_ of an Avatar who hadn't had friends for so long she forgot there were lines in between them, lines you can't cross, lines that she crossed. An Avatar that could just kiss her friend's boyfriend.

She wondered if Asami would ever forgive her.

She wondered if Asami would ever find out.

It was then that she decided that even if she couldn't be honest with her friends—or her family, or her people, or herself—then she'd be honest at that moment, with Tahno.

* * *

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a hero either."

* * *

Then, in usual Korra fashion, she snapped back up before Tahno had time to react.

"But that hasn't stopped me, so are you in, or not?"

When Tahno shook his head, mortification pooled in the soles of her boots before she realized that he was doing that laughing thing again, saying in between heaves something like _you're crazy, but okay_, and suddenly, she was laughing like after a dirty joke too. Looking at the luster in his hair and his eyeliner-less eyes, she began to understand him better. What he was really about.

After Tahno finally poured the tea he had offered to make her—she remembered the startled look he gave her when she showed up dripping rainwater, and his look of dismay at the tracks she left on his carpeted floors with a distinct sense of glee—he chuckled into the dregs of his cup with a comment that sat heavily on her shoulder for the rest of the night.

"Wait until your Fire Ferret finds out about this."

* * *

"You _what?_**"**

Mako's nostrils flared, and Korra was so thankful that Tahno had listened to her and stayed back at his place. She just knew he would have said the wrong thing. She was having a hard enough time saying the right thing as it was.

"Mako, I—"

The color of Mako's face and his splitting lip—he was harassing them between two rows of teeth—were the only indications that _this_ was Mako trying to control himself. He spat out a year's worth of hatred with his next words.

"You invited _Tahno_ to join Team Avatar?"

* * *

Bolin had had a similar reaction, so she was prepared.

* * *

"Yes."

She said it so simply, so plainly, that Mako was taken aback. This calmness was not the Korra he knew.

Mako visibly cooled, but the tension was still there.

"May I ask why?"

She took her time with her answer, worrying it between her teeth and wincing at its taste.

_Because he's my friend. Because he's changed._

But still the answer was wrong. It wasn't enough. It wasn't what she wanted to say.

Mako still was waiting.

* * *

"Because he was never the person we thought he was at all."

* * *

Mako had turned into a grumpy old man overnight, Bolin was just awkward, but thank the Spirits above for Asami, who was a total doll about the newest addition to the Team. She took the whole transition in stride, and within days Asami and Tahno were acting like they'd known each other for years. Apparently they had the same interests—hair and automobiles. Korra watched them race the newest Satos around the track from the sidelines, cheering herself red in the face while they fought it out. When they finally climbed out, faces red from the heat trapped in the helmets, foreheads covered in a healthy coat of sweat, they clasped arms like equals, and Tahno took his defeat in graceful stride. For all the crap he pulled in the Pro-bending Championship, he didn't seem to be the sore loser type with cars. He just seemed almost…jolly, throwing his head back in a merry laugh at something Asami said, saying something dirty enough back to make her flush with color.

Yes, they were becoming grand old friends.

And Korra hated it.

* * *

Later, after Tahno and Asami finished talking about something that sounded suspiciously like hair product—really, that man was _shameless_—she sat out on the roof of the Women's Dormitory at Air Temple Island, her legs dangling off the edge, watching the curved moon glow with a sense of disconnect. The slow moving constellations whirled their span of black and white colors, and there, miles and miles below them, was Korra, in a silhouette against nothing.

She had never felt so worthless.

Amon was out loose somewhere—she didn't know where, but just, _somewhere_—and every day the headlines spun stories of more and more missing benders and more and more missing bending, and Korra could feel, walking down the street, all of the terrified stares burning holes in her shoulders, and the weight of everything Amon stood for rested on her back like another load to carry, and it was just so_ heavy _she couldn't stand it_. _She had never been so scared before in her life.

She wasn't alone; the whole city hummed with the same fear that coursed through her veins. The whole of the city lights wasn't enough to expel the shadows the Equalists wove themselves through, and there was nowhere left that was safe.

And somewhere out there, there were the stars, and somehow, she had to fix it.

There were tears leaking out of her eyes before she knew what to do with them, and once they were out, she could do nothing to stop their silvery path down her cheeks. Tahno didn't need her either.

Against her will, she let out a sob.

"Korra?" She heard his voice before she registered how close he was, and she turned to escape, to hide herself before he saw her, when she felt his heavy hand ground her to her spot. Korra turned her face away.

"Korra." Tahno said. He dropped to his knees, and his hand slid from her shoulder to the crook of her neck, brushing away a strand of her undone hair. His voice was soft. "Korra."

She struggled to wipe her eyes away before he could see her tears. "Oh hey, Tahno. How—how are you?"

She couldn't see his face, but she could hear his faint smile. "I'm okay. It's a nice night to be out."

He waited, probably for her to say something really stupid—wasn't that what everyone was expecting these days?—but she couldn't, and kept her eyes on the silver moon, and blankety night around it.

She had no words.

Tahno sighed and landed heavily next to her, leaning forward to drop his legs over the edge of the dormitory with her, the fabric of their pajamas brushing together, and no matter how much she tried to ignore it, Korra was hypersensitive to his presence. He breathed, and she twitched, like a chord in between them, tethering them together. They sat in silence.

Confident that her eyes were somewhat dry, she stole a glance. He stared at the moon, its whole reflection caught in his eyes, and if the downward curve of his lip was any indication to go by, Tahno stood on either side of the words conflicted and stuck. His eyes slid her way, and met hers halfway.

He was the one to relinquish her. "You know," he said. "It's okay to cry."

"What! I'm—I'm not crying."

Tahno shrugged, his expression unchanging, unreadable. "Okay, Ah-vatar. Just thought you should know."

The silence was turning oppressive, and hung like the humidity before a summer storm.

She was desperate to break it. "How did you know I was up here?"

"Call it a bender's intuition, but I think a waterbender would like to be close to the moon, especially when she's upset."

Her eyes widened; she had never heard him talk about—

"Surprised?" He said, smiling slightly but his expression never changing. "Don't be. It was a long time coming."

She swung her legs a little bit, frowning at her bare feet as she gathered her words. She felt the distance between them more than ever. "Wh—what changed?"

"I suppose nothing." He sighed. "I suppose everything."

Korra hated riddles. "So, what does that mean?"

"It means I'm done. I'm done dancing around what happened to me. I was a waterbender, and now I'm not. It's over." Tahno seemed to realize the limitation of words, stupid words, and swallowed them down like the last dregs of his coffee. "I'm through with living in the past. I'm here now. I'm going to use what little I've got left. And when I see Amon," his face turned gruesome. "He's going to pay."

Korra was contemplative. "But that doesn't answer my question, you know. What _changed?_"

"I suppose you had something to do with it." He answered, emotionlessly. His eyes were still on the moon.

"Now, are you going to tell me why you're crying now?"

Korra before had been alarmed at the question, but now she was just indignant. "I was not crying!"

"Were too."

"Was not!"

"Were too."

"Was n—oh, stop it, you!" Tahno's smirk was devilish. "I don't have to sit here and listen to that! How did you even get up here, anyway?"

"Asami taught me how to climb up buildings, seeing as how I can't exactly waterbend my way up here anymore." He didn't seem to notice how her expression soured. "That Asami, she knows some _stuff_. She's teaching me how to use that lightning scissor hands thing her daddy made, and how to fight without bending. It's pretty hard."

"Oh." Korra said, her voice low and spiteful. "She did now. Good for her." She mumbled some more stuff under her breath, which sounded suspiciously like the word _floozy_.

"Wait," Tahno said, turning to look at her with a creeping grin. "What did you say?"

Korra seemed to realize her fatal error. "Oh, I just said that that's good! Good for you guys! Yay you!"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," Tahno said, with a full-on grin now. "Was that _jealousy_ I heard in that statement?"

"Nope, none, not at all!" He was poisonous.

"Oh yes it was! Ha!" He let out a gasp, complete with a pale hand over his heart. "Is the almighty Avatar jealous of the Sato heiress? Over _moi?_" He laughed. "Oh my, imagine the _headlines!_" He switched over to his best announcer voice. "'Avatar Korra and Sato Heiress duke it out over the Brilliantly Handsome Pro-bender!', 'Who Will Win the Wolfbat's Affections? Avatar Korra and Asami Sato fight over Sexy Heartbreaker Tahno'! Oh wait, I've got a good one; how about—"

Korra scowled, but she couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice. "'Sexy Heartbreaker Tahno'?"

His grin slid into something more like the Old Tahno's. "Well, of course." He said. "There is a reason they all keep coming back—and don't act like I haven't caught you staring."

She wished she could pause time to cool down her blush. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do. There's a reason you're jealous of Sato, after all." Tahno leaned forward slightly, but seemed to think better of it. Korra's smile lessened slightly, but it was probably better that he let her be. She didn't know what she would have done if he had closed the gap between their mouths.

Tahno seemed content to let the heated conversation die, and for the most part, she was happy about it. She was feeling better already.

She placed her hand on top of his, and looked into his eyes. "Thank you, Tahno."

His smile wasn't challenging, or slighting, or anything she was used to. It was just soft, and almost affectionate. He squeezed her hand. "Any time, Korra."

He waited with her until morning, and when it was time for her to report for more disastrous air bending training, he held her back by her hand. Placing his hands on her cheeks, he pressed his lips hard on her forehead. "Whenever you need to talk, Korra…I'm here."

He let her walk away, and then turned to head back to his own apartment. He didn't mention the night on top of the roof again, and let it slide into the backs of both of their minds.

* * *

To be honest, he didn't think she'd ever take him up on his offer.

* * *

But she did.

* * *

And It wasn't pretty.

* * *

And more importantly, it wasn't yet.


End file.
